


The Best of You Belongs to Me

by big_brother_wrath



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Horror, Inspired by The Ritual and Apostle, M/M, Supernatural Shane, Unreliable Narrator, but not demon shane, mildly surreal, shyanexchange2k19, shyanwritingevents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 11:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20134891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_brother_wrath/pseuds/big_brother_wrath
Summary: Ryan Bergara goes on a hike to clear his mind from all the work back home, and just as the sun enlightens him, he finds himself dropped into a world he doesn't know he can leave. Everywhere he turns, the image of shadows and red eyes haunts him. It's as if the forest itself knows the jig is up, and Ryan must survive long enough to escape or die trying to.





	The Best of You Belongs to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chelseyelric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseyelric/gifts).

> Hello!
> 
> Thank you Chelsey for an amazing prompt that I just had to go hard on because I've been imagining this fic for a very long time now. It's actually the longest fic I've written so far, thank you for the opportunity to write for you!
> 
> It's my first try at horror and this fic is mainly inspired by the horror movies The Ritual and Apostle! A good summary of both can be found online, my favorite being from foundflix over on y/t.
> 
> Title taken from NFWMB by Hozier.

The sun is bright on the day Ryan decides to set out in the forest. His friends had urged him to take a vacation from the big city and all its noise, and Ryan agreed with them. Living in LA is great, there’s always sun and something to do but something to do may be what’s giving him extreme creative block. He’s always out, trying to experience an event or show and maybe it’s overloading his senses. Maybe the forest air will do him good.

With his hiking backpack on and walking stick in hand, Ryan sets off on one of the longer trails recommended to him. The crisp air here reminds him of life before the big city, when it was just him and his brother talking about their dreams for the future over actually living with bills and adulthood. He rarely sees his brother now. They work in different job industries and that means Ryan is hunched over his laptop in LA while his brother is in meetings in New York. He can’t even hate him for it.

What he can hate is how quickly everything moves in LA. There never seems to be enough time for Ryan to do things and _mean_ them. He can churn out content for weeks on end, but he’ll occasionally leave his heart out of one, or five. He’ll produce bite-sized entertainment and his colleagues may praise him, saying the videos are funny or interesting, but Ryan hasn’t made something he’s truly proud of in a very long time. Before getting his current position, Ryan had slaved over videos, tweaking them and making editorial notes until his vision was fuzzy and his fingers were working off muscle memory. Each of those had his pride and sweat and, occasionally, blood loaded into them. Nowadays, when his video production meant whether he got to pay for food or rent, Ryan feels like he’s shifted his focus from quality to quantity.

Give them the bite-sized entertainment they want, whether it be a two and a half minute video on the dark history of a popular brand or a summary of the most recent controversy happening in the sports industry. That is his focus now, to get something out there in order to put popcorn on the table. Maybe he should slow down…

Ryan sighs, taking a moment to look up and take a break from his thoughts for a second. The forest stretches expansively before him, looking bright and cheerful. He doesn’t recognize his surroundings and when Ryan turns around, he sees nothing familiar either. He’d been caught up in his own head that Ryan didn’t bother trying to find any markers in case he wound up lost.

“Great,” Ryan murmurs to himself, a voice in his head already asking him why he wasn’t thinking ahead. He scans the path ahead of him, squinting his eyes to see if he can spot any path markers or signs of other hikers. Sunlight cheerfully continues to beam down on him and the flora, getting close to midday since all the shadows are all short. Strange, Ryan doesn’t think he’s been walking for more than an hour and he started the hike at maybe eight in the morning…

Dirt crunches under his shoes as he pivots to stare at where he came from, the same confusion coming to him. There’s nothing that strikes him as recognizable, not even a sign to helpfully say “Civilization 8 miles”. Ryan lets out a long breath from his lips to calm down his nerves and tightens his hold on his backpack strap. It’s alright, he’ll just turn around and walk back the same direction.

As his feet carry him back, Ryan fishes out his phone, internally groaning when he finds no service whatsoever. He’s just about to open a few apps to see if they’ll work but his ankle catches on something, Ryan yelling when he trips over and falls onto his face. Slowly but surely, his relaxing hike is becoming more and more frustrating. He groans and sits up, doing a mental check. Nothing feels broken or hurt save for his ego. Ryan glares at the rock that had tripped him, giving it a vengeful kick before brushing himself off and standing up. Mother Nature is being wily today.

Ryan picks up his walking stick and phone, pulling up the compass app on it and breathes a sigh of relief when it pops up, the digital needle spinning around before telling him he’s heading South. South it is then, at least until he can find someone to ask directions.

The sound of leaves crackling and gravel accommodating him keeps Ryan out of his head for a little bit. Occasionally, a bird sings a melody and Ryan mimics it with a whistle, eyes on the ground to avoid stray rocks or plants. After about twenty minutes of hiking, Ryan takes a second to lean against a tree, fishing his water bottle from its side pocket. Taking a sip, Ryan tries to think of how long he’s been hiking. He’s spent a good majority of the day in this forest and yet he doesn’t feel exhausted. If it really is after midday, he should at least be hungry for a granola bar. His stomach tells him breakfast was just an hour or two ago though.

Ryan looks up when he hears something rustle in the bushes, sure it’s some woodland creature.

That’s when he spots it.

A single overturned rock, dirt and woodchips favoring the side that had been buried once. Ryan caps his water and slowly approaches, realizing with no small amount of horror that it’s the rock he’d tripped over earlier. The same one he’d taken vengeance on. How was that possible, he’s been walking in a straight line the entire time, his compass had been pointing South.

Ryan fumbles his phone out, hurriedly putting his water away and patting the sweat from his palms. The compass app opens, spinning to get its bearings. Ryan watches with bated breath before it finally stops turning, pausing at North. Ryan looks up, making sure he’s facing the same direction he’d been heading. It had said south not twenty minutes ago, how is it saying north now?

It’s broken, Ryan thinks, spinning around in a circle to test his theory. To his horror, the needle remains at North, the app pointedly refusing to budge. Ryan does another spin before a cold horror trickles from the crown his head down his body. His fingertips start to tremor and suddenly Ryan is very afraid.

As if the forest itself knows the jig is up, a thick ominous cloud passes overhead, blotting out the sun. Shadows darken around Ryan, all the soothing noises go quiet. Not a bird tweets, no wind rustles the leaves. Ryan’s hairs are starting to stand on their ends. A sharp crack startles Ryan and he whips around, shifting his grip on the walking stick to turn it into a weapon. Darkness is eating up the forest around him, deep shadows concealing the path he had been on.

“Who’s there?” he calls out, trying to sound more threatening than scared.

He’s not ready for two red eyes to open in the dark, as if the blackness peeled back its own eyelids to stare back. Ryan doesn’t know what to say, only able to watch in horror as more eyes peel back, too close together to be remotely human. Pupilless eyes, dark as cherries, gaze at him and Ryan doesn’t feel an ounce of humanity or safety in their stare. The hiker swallows, tightening his hold on his stick, heart thundering in its cage.

“Fuck!” Ryan shouts, shattering the deafening quiet. He throws the stick at the vague shape, hoping it’s enough of a distraction as he bolts down one of the directions of the path, not caring which way it is as long as he gets away from the thing. His legs pump furiously underneath him, all those years of cardio giving him just a shred of hope to escape. Ryan spares a glance over his shoulder to see how far he is, bile rising in his throat when he sees the blackness chasing after him. In the back of his mind, his brain hears wolves snarling and running. In his chest, his heart feels each and every step the thing takes towards him, taking almost no effort at all to give chase.

Ryan turns to face forward, the air rushing out of his lungs as the ground disappears from under him. All he sees is the rocks and moss on the other side, the steep drop of the cliff. His brain can barely register the fall until Ryan is, in fact, falling. Cold stabbing wind pushes against him, making his eyes water as Ryan tries to think of what to do. What can he do?

The answer is nothing, as the human tumbles down what he sees as a ravine, a shallow trickling river with a maw too small to even try to save him. Ryan’s life doesn’t even flash across his eyes before the ground almost rises up to snatch him, bile once against scratching the walls of his throat.

Through some miracle, Ryan doesn’t land on his head. His legs take the brunt of the impact, shattering instantly. Disgusting (the only adjective his brain supplies) pain spikes through his leg, enough for Ryan to scream “fuck!” into the air as he crumples into a destroyed heap. The side of his cheek splashes in the weak river of the ravine. Pain clouds his vision, Ryan just barely able to feel the first handful of raindrops on his cheek. Are they raindrops, or tears?

Ryan’s eyes flutter open and closed, his backpack straps holding him together like ropes for a hostage. As the same darkness starts to attack the outside of his vision, Ryan’s eyes give one more wander. In the distance, as the rain starts to pour, a tall looming figure seems to be walking towards him. There’s no rush in its gait, no worry at all in its steps. Like people falling in ravines is normal.

_Nothing about this is normal_, Ryan thinks before his eyes roll black and the hiker blacks out.

* * *

Voices click and gargle from somewhere nearby, Ryan barely conscious enough to hear them. It sounds like layers upon layers of voices are speaking at once in one unified dialect. If he tries very hard, he can lift his eyelids just enough to filter an orange light through them.

At once, the voices stop talking, though Ryan doesn’t sense concern or anything warm from them. The silence that fills the void is thick and heavy, almost like a winter duvet being pressed against his body. He’s starting to choke on it, instincts warning him that something is drawing closer.

That’s all Ryan remembers until sleep beckons him back into its arms.

* * *

Ryan doesn’t realize his eyes are open until he sees something moving. Then he can make out the fuzzy outlines of a wall, the door in it, and some other scarce furniture of the room.

The figure in question looks almost completely black, its silhouette having no discernible features. He can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, just that it’s tall and looming in the doorway. He can’t see eyes or a mouth, no ears. Just the shape of shoulders and the prickling feeling that it’s staring at him just as much as he’s staring at it. Once again, Ryan can feel his hairs standing on edge and a gag dancing in the back of his throat. He swallows it. oddly smiling at the figure and huffing a laugh through his nose.

A cheerful hysteria runs through his body. Before he can act on it, his eyes roll back again, and Ryan returns to the dark void.

* * *

A savory delicious smell wakes Ryan up, his eyes slowly opening to a gentle stream of daylight. He’s waking up in his absolute favorite way, starting with stretching out his chest before wiggling deeper into his soft covers. The delicious smell is still in the air, now far too strong to be the remnants of a dream. Had he brought someone home last night? Damn, he’d promised himself to at least remember some names.

Ryan presses against the bed for just a moment longer before sighing, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed. He fully opens his eyes and blinks, tossing the blanket off of his lap. Weird, he’d gone to bed fully dressed. Did one of his friends wind up having to deal with him for the night? A pool of guilt pools at the base of his throat, an apology forming on his tongue when Ryan notices the blanket he’d tossed off.

None of his friends have… fur blankets, at least nothing this big and real feeling. He massages the fur before looking around, mind slowly catching up as he realizes he’s in a cabin somewhere. It’s rustic, all furniture looking handmade and dated back by a few years at least. Where exactly… is he?

“Oh! You’re awake now. G’morning.”

Ryan startles at the new voice, whipping his head to the sound and there stands a very tall and rather peaceful looking man dressed in a buttoned-up flannel. He sips from a smoking mug and from the smell, Ryan can tell it’s freshly brewed coffee. The man, probably the owner of the cabin, takes a long slurp of his coffee and Ryan realizes he’s staring, quickly averting his gaze to something, anything else in the room. He notices his backpack propped up against the wall, standing up to walk to it.

“People usually tell me their name,” the man speaks again and Ryan straightens up, running a hand through his hair.

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I’m Ryan, nice to meet you. Did you… Does this place… Yours?” Ryan asks, unsure what knocked the wires loose in his brain. Knocked? Wait, hold on.

Ryan grabs the nearest thing he can find to steady himself, washing nausea drowning him. His knees buckle as Ryan struggles to connect the dots. They shouldn’t be buckling, shouldn’t be doing anything at all because of the ravine. The fall, he shouldn’t be walking like nothing is happening. He should be in a hospital or dying at the bottom of a pit. How is he here?! He pats himself down, falling back onto the bed and waiting for the moment the illusion breaks and the pain comes through. He waits and waits before blinking hard, gaze remaining fixed on his legs.

“Ryan. Yeah, the place is mine. Are you freaking out because of your uh, legs?” the man asks and Ryan turns to look at him, completely forgetting that another person is in the room. What the fuck is happening?

“Yeah, I patched you up. Noticed you were kinda laying at the bottom of a ravine and not entirely dead so I grabbed you, healed you.”

“How is that possible? How long have I been asleep? This isn’t a hospital, how did you do that?” Ryan stutters out, grasping one of his calves as if to prove to him how Ryan is still in one impossible piece.

“Most people just say thank you. Nature does some wild things,” the man says, now a smug smile on his face. Ryan wants to react poorly but the man has a point. Instead of being actually thankful, he’d almost thrown up on the floor of the room. Jesus, LA is doing something to his manners.

“Sorry, you’re right. Thank you, uh… What’s your name?”

“What do I look like?”

Ryan tilts his head at the question, the nature of it striking him odd. They weren’t exactly friends like that, he’s not sure why the man’s… asking him that exactly. Maybe he’s just been in the woods too long?

“You uh… Huh?” Ryan grabs for the first random name he can think of. “Sh-Shane. You look like a Shane.”

“Interesting. Haven’t heard that one before,” Shane says and takes another sip, giving Ryan another friendly smile. The whole smiling thing is starting to get a little old, a little creepy even. He’s stuck in a cabin in the woods with a stranger who keeps showing off his teeth. If this was a script Ryan would be working on, this entire situation would be a little something called _foreshadowing_.

“What’s your real name then? I can’t just call you Shane if that’s not your name,” Ryan pushes, standing from the bed. He mentally sizes the guy up. He’s way thinner than Ryan, definitely not as strong. However, he’s got a solid number of inches on him and that could spell trouble in a fight. Ryan’s eyes dart to his backpack, though nothing in there can help him.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it. Shane works. Been called a lotta things,” Shane says and turns from the door, walking off but still talking on. Ryan feels an inexplicable draw to follow him, still a bit baffled how he can follow Shane. His legs feel completely normal, not a tinge of pain or creaks anywhere.

“Guardian of the forest, god of the eldritch, horror of the shadows…” Shane lists off and Ryan hums. Guy’s funny. A little strange but funny.

The room they walk into is the main living space, with a kitchenette tucked into a corner and a hearth with a gentle fire still lit. Ryan peeks out one of the windows and sees the night sky stretching over them. The forest seems much friendlier now, and yet Ryan can’t keep the red eyes away from his memories. They haunt him whenever he blinks, two unnaturally red dots hungrily look at him. His compass acting completely weird brings a chill up his spine, the overturned rock scaring him more than it should.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he nearly jumps when Shane stands in front of him again, holding out a bowl.

“Oh, thanks. What’s this?” Ryan asks, already bringing the soup to his lips. It’s still hot, but Ryan quickly gets over it when he tastes the soup. It’s rich, salty, all in the best ways. He can’t imagine tasting something this good anywhere else, it’s like taking the love from his mom’s food and mixing it with the best ingredients man can find.

“Some mushroom soup made from stuff I gathered,” Shane says, taking a slurp from his own bowl and walking back to the pot in the kitchen. Once again, Ryan finds himself following and Shane takes his bowl, filling it with a ladleful before handing it back.

Maybe Shane isn’t too bad after all.

Ryan hurriedly takes another slurp, mind drifting back to his earlier hike. He’s sure he saw something, and even if he didn’t see it, his hair had stood on end and his instincts said fight or flight. With how the sun had darkened and everything went silent, it was almost like the forest itself turned on him.

“So, how do you think you’re gonna pay me back for healing you up?”

Ryan takes everything back, Shane sucks.

“What? Oh uh… I have some cash on me you can have if you need that. There're some bars in my backpack too,” Ryan lists off, now suddenly uncomfortable with the hot bowl in his hand. Is dinner going to cost him too? He sets the bowl down, stamping down the small headache that springs forward. God, he hopes Shane doesn’t want the Tylenol in his bag.

“Eh, don’t really need money. Food is kind of optional for me,” Shane says, downing his bowl before setting it down as well. Ryan takes a wary step back when Shane reaches out, unable to move away when Shane’s slim fingers rest around his wrist. Ryan’s breathing quickens and the familiar feeling of fight or flight returns. On cue, the fire that had been burning snuffs into an intimidating ball of hot embers. Ryan glances back at Shane and in the new lighting, he could swear the man’s eyes look black.

“I was thinking of something more service-oriented. Don’t need human things anymore,” Shane proposes and his voice distorts, shifting between sounding like one person to multiple people at once. His memories suddenly flood him all at once.

He fell down the ravine, shattering his legs and laying in agony until someone nonchalantly walked up to him. There was no worry in their steps even though a normal person would be concerned. The way the forest shadows bent around him, how the path circled over and over. What had Shane called himself earlier? Guardian of the forest, god of the eldritch…

Horror of the shadows.

“Fuck!” Ryan shouts, yanking his wrist from Shane. He was so busy connecting dots that he didn’t notice Shane’s grip tightening. He looks down at the skin, seeing a collection of raised red welts in the shape of a handprint. Shane doesn’t look offended whatsoever, his impasse grin almost shining in the darkness. The man takes a step toward Ryan and that’s when his body says flight.

Ryan turns around and makes a mad dash for the door, throwing it open and escaping into the night. As he suspects, the forest has turned villainous, tree limbs stretching to cover any moonlight. Ryan is running blindly back into the forest, slapping shrubs and kicking up dirt. Anything to get away from Shane.

Yet, as far as he runs, he can still feel the haunting presence chasing after him. It’s like the ravine again, only this time his legs work.

A scream is building in the back of Ryan’s throat, clawing at the walls of it but Ryan can’t bring himself to scream. There’s no one to hear him, nature itself is his enemy right now.

Ryan crashes through bushes, registering he’s on some sort of path and he immediately runs towards the faint glow of lights in the distance. His legs pump furiously underneath him. Survive, his brain demands. Survive or face something you’ve never known. Something far worse than death.

“Help!” Ryan screams at the first sign of life. He sees someone, someone _human_, sweeping their front porch as he bursts into the village. He stops to gasp and catch his breath, sparing a second to look over his shoulder.

Shane’s eyes are staring right back, not a single drop of worry as he leans casually against a tree. Ryan has to tear his eyes away from him, running up to the nearest person and catches her shoulder. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates, face frozen in shock as Ryan wheezes out his story.

“Please, please, you have to help me. Something is chasing me, it’s… I’m Ryan, please!” he begs, fingers trembling as she looks blankly into his face. He needs help, he needs…

She recovers enough to rest a hand on his wrist, about to say something before her eyes fly to the welts on his skin. Ryan watches her skin pale and he’s suddenly pushed away, the woman screaming a name as she flees into the safety of a growing crowd.

“I-I just need help, please,” Ryan asks again, reaching for the crowd. They all gasp and murmur, backing away from him like he has the plague. He can’t help but feel his heart break a little, covering the welts with his hand. The hairs on the back of his neck stand and he whirls around, taking a surprised step back when Shane is there now.

“You shouldn’t scare people like that, Ryan. They were getting ready to sleep for the night,” Shane says, holding out his hand. Ryan glances at it before darting his eyes back to Shane, taking another step back and hearing the crowd take one as well.

“He’s… You’re a monster!” Ryan shouts, hoping the people would have his back. There’s strength in numbers. If Ryan can at least get some people to try and shield him, there’s a chance Shane will back off and he can maybe find a place to stay until he gets his bearings right.

“Not really, no. Those things usually kill for fun. I don’t kill for anything,” Shane explains in a stupidly cool and collected voice. Ryan hazards a glance behind him, wanting to make sure the villagers were hearing this. All their eyes are watching Shane, a sort of reverence among them. They all seem so much calmer, their guards completely down. Ryan slowly turns back to Shane, that damned cool smile back on his face, like he’s been patiently waiting for Ryan’s attention again.

“Not a monster, not human either. Least, not anymore. I eat for taste now. So, if I’m not a monster and not a human, there’s only a handful of things that I can be.” Ryan watches Shane tap a slender finger against his lips before grinning widely, something distinctly inhuman about it. He claps his hands together and Ryan flinches, waiting for the pain to come. After a handful of seconds pass, he slowly opens his eyes, Shane holding his hands together.

“What?”

Shane doesn’t answer, just grins before turning. Ryan follows his gaze, gasping when fresh sunlight hits his eyes. He instinctively squints, shielding his eyes away. That’s impossible, the moon was barely halfway through the sky, dawn shouldn’t have been for another six hours.

A happy gasp startles him, the villagers applauding while Ryan stares on in horror. Shane stays facing the rising sun before turning around, the edges of his smile sharp as he addresses Ryan.

“Something like a minor god. Someone you owe your life to. My brother may have left the forest to sing for people, but I’m still here, just chilling,” Shane says and Ryan hates the shiver that runs down his spine, brain telling him Shane is telling the truth. He watches Shane slowly lift a hand, reaching up until it looks like he’s caressing the sun before dragging dawn back to night, the moon slowly rising to loom over them.

“I think you should go back to the cabin, Ryan,” Shane says and Ryan grinds his heels into the ground, ready to spit a biting “no” back. A wave of nausea comes over him and Ryan finds himself collapsing onto his knees, clutching his pounding head with his heads. The pain is strong enough for his vision to go white for a second and he barely feels himself be lifted until Shane’s back in his vision.

“You should go back to the cabin,” he repeats and Ryan, teeth grit from the pain, vaguely nods and the piercing ache disappears. Ryan chokes on a sigh of relief, shuffling his feet towards the direction he thinks the cabin is in. If Shane can change time, there’s little else he can do to stop. He belongs to a god of the forest, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

* * *

The days that follow the incident at the village are, surprisingly, peaceful. Shane disappears for hours of the day, leaving Ryan with only a handful of things to do. The only bedroom in the cabin has silently become Ryan’s. Initially, Ryan tried to defy Shane. He would sit in his room and pretend to be back home, running video ideas through his brain. It worked, at first. Before long, the same overwhelming pain would attack his mind and he’d be left with no choice but to do what Shane asks.

The tasks are simple enough. Every morning, Ryan starts with collecting firewood and clearing the pathway to the cabin. Once the sun rolls to its peak, he’s supposed to go to the village to see what they need help with. Apparently, they haven’t seen an outsider in years and they’re interested in his stories. It’s kind of nice, really, to have an audience he can interact with. They aren’t interested in bite-sized videos, they want the entire story and don’t really care how long it takes. They ask questions, and slowly but surely, Ryan finds himself looking forward to seeing them.

Occasionally someone will have a task for him, like lifting heavy wood into the house or ask for his thoughts on building something since he’s seen outside tools. Ryan thinks it’s strange, but everything could be worse. He could be out there coercing other humans into the same fate, or even killing them. Shane asked him why he looked so glum and Ryan, no longer truly scared of him, asked why he had to serve. Shane didn’t explain why, just finished his meal and left Ryan to sit at the table.

Every fifth day is sacrifice day. Ryan initially imagined bloody effigies and other grotesque offerings so he had entered the village in small steps. To his surprise, there hadn’t been anything of the sort. Some would offer baskets of gathered food, others simply put a slip into Ryan’s hands. When he had unfolded one, it listed the deeds they’d done the week to help the forest.

The days start to blur together and when Ryan wakes up one morning, he can’t bring himself to be upset about being here. He’s forgetting how his bedroom in LA is decorated, hands starting to memorize the bedroom he has now instead. The idea of forgetting LA leaves a mixture of emotions in his gut and he kicks off the blankets, hoping the path is absolutely riddled with junk. He doesn’t want to think about LA.

Ryan tosses on a shirt a villager named Alex had given him, sliding into a pair of clean jeans and socks before opening the door to the main room. Shane is standing there, staring out a window with a knot between his brows. Ryan passes by him with a gentle “g’morning”, heading for the eggs and getting ready to make an omelet when he feels the beginnings of a headache tickle the back of his head.

“What, Shane?” he asks, turning around. He’s started to notice when Shane’s about to ask him something and that doesn’t annoy him. What does annoy Ryan, however, is when Shane forgets to vocally tell him something and leaves Ryan with a headache while he’s gone.

Shane’s still looking out the window and Ryan is about to turn around to continue with breakfast when the first wave of the headache rolls through him. Ryan pinches his eyes closed, turning around and gasping when Shane is right next to him.

“What the fu-“

“We gotta go to the village,” Shane says and the tone makes Ryan’s eyes widen. In all the days he’s been here, Shane has never spoken in something other than cool and collected. So freed from an invisible pressure Ryan always feels. Now, Shane sounds incredibly worried, like a problem could be on the horizon. Ryan doesn’t bother protesting, just rushes to the door after Shane, throwing on his sneakers and kicking into a jog when Shane starts to run towards the direction of the village.

There’s a gaggle of villagers right in the center, strained whispers buzzing around them. Ryan watches the people part for Shane to walk through, trailing after him. The scent hits him before he makes it through the crowd and when Ryan finally peeks over Shane’s side, he nearly vomits.

Four bodies lay side by side, polka dots of bloodstains on their clothes. Ryan can hardly process what he’s seeing, recalling their hello’s and laughter from just yesterday. His eyes can’t leave the bodies, staring at the vacant eyes and the pale skin. In the sun, he can see every wrinkle and there’s no stopping his brain from remembering every moment he spent with each of them. Taking dried herbs as a sacrifice, tightening ropes to keep a homemade broom together…

“Ryan.”

The human snaps out of it, gasping when he realizes Shane’s hands are holding his face. Ryan blinks and tears roll down his cheeks, sinking into the space between Shane’s fingers and his cheek.

“I knew them,” Ryan manages out and Shane’s face softens, eyebrows curling upwards before slowly releasing Ryan’s face and pulling him in. Ryan can’t find it in him to fear Shane right now, not when he looks so human with the emotion in his eyes. He sinks into Shane’s embrace, forehead resting on his flannel shoulder as tears soak into the thick material. He’s not sure how long he’s like that, just resting as the silence wraps them both.

“Sorry, I just…” Ryan pulls away, rubbing his eyes with his arm.

“No, it’s alright. Death is… real,” Shane says, looking between Ryan and the people. He slowly turns to them and sinks to one knee, slowly closing their eyes. The forest seems to respond to him, and Ryan can’t explain it with words. It’s like everything droops. Sunlight seems to dull and the air feels heavier on his shoulders. He feels grief in the air, as if the forest mourns for the fallen.

Shane stands and takes a step back, turning to Ryan with a look in his eyes. Ryan prepares for the itching of a headache but it never comes. They stand like that, god and man, for what feels like forever. Shane looks like he’s debating something, eyes occasionally flicking over Ryan’s shoulders. Ryan takes a glance behind him, finding the villagers looking to Shane for guidance. They all are, he realizes. Ryan is looking to Shane for direction.

“Go back to your business. Whatever came for them is coming to intimidate and I refuse to fear them. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. You have followed me for decades, centuries. I haven’t failed you yet and I don’t plan to. You two.” Shane points at two men. “Make sure they’re properly buried. They deserve to return to the home they built.”

The villagers quickly separate and Shane doesn’t spare them a glance as he heads for the exit. Ryan follows after him, unsure how to comfort Shane. He’s sure the guy must be hurting, especially if he’s some old blood god who’s watched over the village before those people had been born… Blank eyes flash in Ryan’s vision and he ducks his head, picking up his pace to keep up with Shane.

* * *

More bodies are piling up. Soon, Ryan is the one responding to village whispers, volunteering to bury the ones who had been hunted. Shane has stopped going out in the mornings, now spending them at the front gate of the village. He doesn’t try to stop anyone from leaving, encouraging it even, but he does tell them to be careful. Still, people come back dying or carrying the dead.

Ryan’s hands have callouses where he’s gripped the shovel too tight.

“Shane,” Ryan says one night and the god looks up from his seat the fireplace. It may just be a trick of the light, but Shane looks more human than Ryan’s ever seen. His eyes are a bit sunken and his fingers are tightly wound together. His movements have lost their lackadaisical grace and Shane always looks so serious now.

“What’s happening?” Ryan asks, taking a seat next to him. Shane sighs and looks back at the fire, seeming to get lost in his own mind. Ryan looks into the fire as well, not expecting answers.

“… I used to be human.”

“What?” Ryan glances at Shane, now fully turning towards him. Shane doesn’t look at him, talking to the fireplace more than Ryan.

“Centuries ago, I came to this forest with my family and some friends. Slowly, I began to learn more and more about this place. People started to come to me for advice, and one day I found out I could do things. I’d close my eyes and open them somewhere else. I could hear the forest calling, I could… I knew every single thing that happened in the woods. If an outsider comes, I know exactly where they are. There’s no limit to my powers… I can manipulate the entire place to make someone walk in circles for hours, make them feel like it’s been hours when it’s really been seconds. I can do all of that…

“At least, I used to. The more people who follow me, the stronger I am. That village has been with me for centuries, Ryan. Now they’re dying. I’m getting weaker.”

Ryan is struck with how exhausted Shane looks in the fire, the bags under his eyes becoming incredibly deep. He wants to reach out and rest his hand on the god’s shoulders, wants to say it’ll be alright. However, Ryan isn’t blind to how impossibly mortal he is. There’s nothing he can do about the situation. His fingers brush against the raised welts on his wrist and shrinks further into the sofa.

“I can’t protect them. Whatever’s hunting them, I can’t protect them from it,” Shane says and it looks like it sobers him. The god rubs his face and sighs, leaning back against the sofa. He puts his hands down in favor of turning his gaze to Ryan, looking him with a reverence that made his stomach churn.

Wordlessly, Shane holds out his hand and Ryan settles his wrist into it, the slim fingers matching exactly where Shane had touched him all those weeks ago.

“Ryan, I care for my following with my life. They are the source of my power, they have given me home. I would die before I let any more of them die. I will die before I let you die.” Shane looks deep into Ryan’s eyes and he can’t breathe for a second, his heart hammering against its cage. Had he heard that right? Had Shane really said that?

“And with that, I set you free,” Shane says and Ryan feels an electric tingle run down his skin before Shane pulls away. The welts are gone, the skin there as soft as it had been before. Ryan holds it up to his face, running the tips of his fingers along the surface to find any trace of Shane’s mark. He can see Shane smile before turning back to the fireplace. The conversation is over before Ryan can even get any answers.

“Goodnight Shane,” Ryan says, slowly unfolding from the couch and heading for his room. He almost misses the quiet “goodnight, Ryan. I’ll miss you.”

The next morning, Shane isn’t in the kitchen or staring by the window. Instead, there are a few boiled eggs on the table and some food left in a Tupperware container. Ryan approaches the eggs, taking one and peeling it before taking a bite. Strange, he’s usually making his own food before starting his chores. Which he doesn’t have to do anymore. Ryan looks around the cabin, wondering if the headache will ever hit. He waits a few minutes more, just in case, but when it never comes, Ryan takes another egg and heads for his bedroom to grab his toothbrush.

A knock on the door interrupts him and Ryan squints at it. Shane isn’t one to knock to come into his own home, he hardly even uses the door. He’ll simply appear whenever he wants to be home. The villagers don’t like coming by the cabin, treating it like some sacrilege act. Ryan walks up to the door and unlocks it, opening it just a crack.

“Hello?”

Ryan’s eyes widen when he sees two men wearing proper hiking clothing standing at the door. He quickly opens it, swallowing the lump of an egg inside of his mouth and wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Hello, good morning. How can I help you?” Ryan asks, heart racing at the sight of people from civilization.

“Hello, we were wondering if we could… help you,” one of them asks, gesturing at the cabin itself. Ryan looks up, finding nothing out of ordinary with the wood.

“What do you mean?” he asks. The hunters lean in as if to share a secret. Ryan almost doesn’t want to, but they look alright enough. He leans just enough out of the door to hear them clearly.

“We heard there’s something living in the cabin, something that takes people from their families. We can save you, friend. We’ve already crippled its church, soon it’ll be weak enough for us to kill it. Purge it from our forest.” The hunters lean away just as quickly as they leaned in and Ryan feels his hairs stand on end, spine locking him in the half-bent position he’s in.

“I… No, no. Just me living here,” Ryan quickly says, stepping back into the comfort of the cabin.

The hunters give him a doubtful look, one of them looking ready to reach for the knife Ryan can see strapped to his belt. Tension settles between the three of them and Ryan’s engaged in a staring contest, his smile getting weaker and weaker. They stay like that before one of them, an older man with a graying mustache, coughs and nods to the other hunter.

“Well, you let us know if you need any help, friend. We’ll be coming around these parts often,” he says and turns away from the door, his buddy following him after a long second. Ryan waves to them and as soon as they’re gone, he quickly shuts the door and presses his back against it, heart racing. Holy shit, the people… The villagers. Those guys are the ones who have been hunting down the villagers. They’re like… pillagers. Murderers.

Ryan quickly decides to tell Shane as soon as he comes back, making a beeline for his bedroom to get ready. He has to get to the village too, tell them to stay inside and lock the doors. There has to be a safer place to evacuate them, but Ryan doesn’t know if Shane needs to be a certain distance from his following or else his powers die… Shane hasn’t been able to manipulate time or space of the forest in a while, saying he’s left with only his strength and not much of it.

Ryan reaches for his backpack and pauses when he sees it neatly zipped up. He looks at it for a second, sure it should be completely open and some things spilling out. Ryan had unpacked his things, resolved to living in the cabin with Shane. Even when the welts had been removed, no thought of going back had crossed his mind. Ryan slowly unzips his bag and finds all of his clothes rolled up and his bottle full of cool water.

“You were waiting for me to go,” Ryan murmurs to himself, standing up straight when he hears the locks on the front door click. He quickly dashes back to the door to his room, closing it to a crack just in case the pillagers had wanted to come back for another “friendly chat”. Slowly, the top lock undoes and the deadbolt is expertly removed, Shane’s head popping into the house.

“Shane,” Ryan breathes out and opens the door, gasping when Shane jumps nearly a foot into the air.

“What? What’re you still doing here?” Shane asks, looking at the eggs at the table and the food. Ryan tilts his head before snorting, patting his hands on his pants.

“You thought I was going to leave? You’re joking. Not when you need my help. Listen, Shane, I saw them. The people who’ve been killing the villagers. They came up to the door and asked if I ‘needed help’,” Ryan explains, gesturing at the door. Shane’s eyes impossibly darken, reminding Ryan of the first night he saw them go completely black. It’s been a while since he’s seen Shane do that. His brown eyes now just reflect the dangerous quiet inside of Shane.

“They came? Are you okay?” Shane asks, turning his attention back to Ryan. Ryan pats himself down and shrugs. They hadn’t bothered trying to take him out, though he doesn’t want to say one of them looked ready to get at him. If he had even resembled the villagers, would Shane have found his body in the cabin?

“I’m fine, but we have to do something Shane. This can’t keep going on,” Ryan insists and relishes the complete look of surprise on Shane’s face. Something other than sad or passive, perfect.

“You care about the villagers, right?”

“I told you last night, of course I d-“

“Then we need to find a way to get your powers back. You can’t protect them from these weird fucks if all you can do is break something from pressing on it too hard.” Ryan looks at Shane with a challenge in his eyes, now thankful Shane had “set him free”. If he hadn’t been, Ryan is sure he’d be suffering from a major migraine right now.

Shane looks back at Ryan with a foreign expression, looking like he’s thinking over the idea. Slowly, his face gets lighter and lighter until there’s a spark of determination in his eyes. Ryan smiles as Shane nods.

“There’s a place in the village we need to see. It’ll have a way, we just need to find it,” Shane says and Ryan follows him out of the cabin, both of them bordering on breaking into a jog for the village.

The place Shane wants is the history keeper’s house, a place filled to the brim with journals detailing not only every villager to have lived with Shane’s power, but dozens upon dozens of books from people who studied Shane’s powers. Over time, the curiosity had been sated, though a few books are being revised into more modern English.

Shane completely disregards books with modern binding, going straight for the oldest section of the home and pulling out a heaping armful of ancient scribblings and setting them on the nearest available surface. Ryan follows suit, pulling out his own pile and tossing it onto a nearby empty desk. Shane sits and begins to rifle through the nearest one and that’s how the two begin to spend their days. For about three days, Ryan and Shane live in the village library, peeling through yellowed paper underneath firelight. Occasionally, Ryan will show Shane something that resembles power or ancient deities. Every time, Shane would tell him that’s not what he’s looking for, that he’s already tried that method.

In those three days, Ryan is the one bringing the both of them food. They’re too scared for the remaining villagers to have Shane leave for the cabin, fearing if he does leave, someone will die. Ryan plays messenger, running the two of them hard-boiled eggs or mushroom soup whenever they get hungry. The villagers have taken on the task of leaving some snacks at the door whenever they can, though, with the low labor count, a lot of their focus is keeping their farms tidy and making sure anyone who lost family is taken care of.

Slowly, Ryan finds himself helping Shane whenever he catches the god asleep. He’ll gently shake Shane’s shoulders and when that doesn’t work, Ryan will peel his cheek off of whatever he’s reading and throw a blanket over him. Shane always wakes up when Ryan leaves for food or water, but the kind looks he offers when Ryan looks at him are enough.

On the fourth day, Ryan feels ready to tear his hair out, Shane just a step behind him. They both feel exhausted and, as Ryan pulls another book off a shelf, the situation looks rather grim. All the methods Shane has found have all been proven false and unless someone comes up with a breakthrough, there likely isn’t a way for Shane to gain his powers back without a new following. Ryan finds himself fighting the thought, but he can’t help feeling like they’ve reached an end neither of them want.

“What about this one? I can’t read it,” Ryan says, flipping the book over and showing Shane a page full of a scribble Ryan can’t read. The god takes a look at it, eyes darting over the passages as he reads before scoffing.

“Yeah, sure. That’s all bullshit, Ryan. Just some children’s fairy tale. Toss it,” Shane says, going back to leafing through his own book. Ryan presses his lips together, turning the book over and trying to make out some words. It doesn’t look promising, no pictures whatsoever. If Shane can read it and thinks it’s not going to help, it’s not going to. Ryan shuts the book and sets it on their mountain of finished material.

Another hour passes by them when Shane suddenly stands, knocking the desk he’s using. Ryan almost jumps, watching Shane head for the door and throw it open. He’s about to turn back to the umpteenth journal on witchcraft when he hears Shane yelling outside.

“What the fuck?” Ryan asks, abandoning his own desk and heading out.

“My people. My family,” Shane starts as Ryan joins the circle of villagers.

“You all have to leave. This place, our forest, is no longer safe for you. You have given generations to me and our forest, but I’ve failed you. I have failed, and I have allowed your family to die. You were once amazed by my powers, when I could bring the sun up in the dead of night, when you would always find your way home no matter how far you wandered into the forest. I can’t do that for you anymore, I can hardly be the god you all need. And you all deserve better.”

Shane looks over his family and Ryan can see the mourning sadness in his eyes. The forest doesn’t even respond it anymore, benignly watching from the outskirts of the village. It breaks Ryan’s heart.

“You all deserve better, and I am not that. Please. Leave by the next morning. For your safety, for your family’s safety. I will always be able to find you, no matter how far you go. The forest lives on in each of you.” Shane claps his hands and pulls his lips into a taut line, turning his back to the crowd and walking towards the trees. Ryan looks around and finds the faces of distraught villagers trying to make plans with one another. To stay and possibly die or to leave and abandon the only life they know.

Ryan can’t hear it right now, pushing around people to chase after Shane. He manages to catch up to him, the two of them making a beeline for the cabin.

“Hey, hey! Shane! Wait,” Ryan asks, stepping in front of the god. Shane spares him a look before dodging around him, still stomping towards the cabin. Ryan sighs and continues his chase, stepping in front of Shane before he makes it to the door.

“Wait, what happened to trying? What happened to saving them?” Ryan asks, hating how Shane can’t meet his eyes. The god looks so small despite being a full head taller than Ryan. He looks like he’s struggling, and when Ryan glances down, Shane’s hands are tightly clenched into fists.

“This is saving them, Ryan. I have to let them go to save them. If they stay here, they get murdered. If they run, if they can get far far away from here, then just maybe they have a chance. I can’t do it for them, I can’t even do my little… Shadow thing anymore,” Shane confesses, finally meeting Ryan’s eyes. They’re glossy, the shine of a thousand stars dancing in Shane’s unshed tears. Ryan looks up at him, his heart knotting itself in his chest. They can’t… If the villagers leave, if Shane loses his entire following, he’ll just be a man again. A man vulnerable to bullets and knives just like the rest of them.

“You’ll die,” Ryan whispers, the words tasting awful even to him.

“I know. For them, I will,” Shane replies, scratching his face.

“… There’s something we can do, there has to be something,” Ryan desperately asks, almost begging the forest itself to pull a solution from thin air.

“There is, and I’ve done it, Ryan. I set them free, don’t you get it? You can leave, you can go back to LA and you can go back to being a normal person. You don’t have to see this all end,” Shane says, spitting “this” out like the word had offended him. Ryan gapes at Shane, unable to say anything as the god pushes him aside and enters the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Go back? To LA? That’s what he wanted right, to go back to the life he had known before Shane, before this whole adventure began. Ryan had wanted nothing more than to get back to the apartment he could barely afford and sit in the comfort of his Ikea couch, warm laptop sitting on his thighs. Looking back into the forest now, however, Ryan doesn’t know how he could ever go back. LA seems so loud now, all the cars screaming at odd hours of the day. In the wilderness here, all Ryan has to do is hold his breath and silence will fill him with enough peace to last a lifetime.

“I don’t want to,” Ryan murmurs and it feels like his soul agrees with him. LA isn’t where he should be, the forest is home now. Ryan presses a hand against the door to the cabin, sucking in a deep breath before pushing it open.

Shane is sitting in front of the fireplace, except there’s nothing more than smoking ashes in the hearth. The entire cabin looks devoid of happiness, sunlight not helping how gray the entire home feels. Ryan slowly steps in, the wood creaking underneath his feet.

“Shane?” Ryan asks, stepping around the sofa to take a seat by his side. Shane sighs and looks at Ryan to show him he’s listening.

“What did that book say?”

“Ryan, it doesn’t matter, it’s all lies.”

“Yeah, but what if it isn’t? C’mon, it can’t be bad. Just… humor me. Tell me what it’s about and if it’s impossible, we’ll drop it,” Ryan says and Shane seems to study him for a moment before bursting into a humorless chuckle.

“It said… Says that the power of true love is equal to having the power of gods in my veins. That if I found someone to spend eternity with, I just have to perform a ritual and I will literally become a god and not have to rely on a following to keep my power,” Shane explains drily and Ryan hates the sarcastic look he gives. He’s distracted, however, by exactly what Shane says. The power of true love? To spend eternity with someone?

Ryan can’t help the warmth he feels in his ears, blood suddenly becoming a roar in them. He looks away from Shane, back at the door out of the cabin. Shane shifts and Ryan figures he’s probably staring at the ashes again. He feels so far away, and Ryan wants nothing more than to reach out and touch Shane again. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he misses the sound of Shane’s carefree boisterous laughter, and the way he stoops over when he’s doing something. How cool he was, how the problems of life just rolled off his back like water on a duck. Ryan misses that…

He misses the true Shane.

“Listen, your backpack is still packed. You still have time to get a headstart before those guys probably-“

Ryan can’t take any more of the martyr talk, picking himself off the couch and crashing onto Shane’s body, their lips sloppily aligning. Ryan’s kiss misses, too much to the right. He tries again, pressing their warm lips together and enjoying the fireworks show going off in his gut. Ryan didn’t realize this is what he’s craved from the forest, the warmth from Shane’s body and the tremble in Shane’s hands as they slowly rest on Ryan’s body.

“True love? Right?” Ryan asks and Shane’s eyes are clouded over with a new emotion before he quickly nods.

“Ritual?” Ryan asks again and Shane’s nodding as he pulls Ryan in for another kiss. The human quickly obliges, their lips bypassing whatever dance they’ve been doing and going straight to passionate love. Ryan feels Shane’s hands reverently brush along his back, guiding him to a more comfortable position on the couch. Everything Shane touches burns alight and Ryan gasps when strong hands grab his waist, pressing thumbs against his hip bones.

“What do you gotta do for the ritual,” Ryan pants against Shane’s lips when he breaks for air. Shane blinks at him before a smile just a touch shy of the one Ryan misses spreads on his lips.

“Just need to get some herbs together, draw a few sigils here and there, and well…” Shane seems to blush at what he’s about to say next, looking down at where their hips are settled against each other. He gives a filthy roll of his hips and Ryan groans at the delicious friction. Shane’s hands press Ryan flush against the god, leaving no space between their bodies as Shane presses his lips against Ryan’s ear.

“It involves wearing your sheets down until they’re nothing more than threads,” Shane whispers and the heated undertone of the message drags a pleasurable shiver down Ryan’s spine. Shane leans back to look into Ryan’s eyes, and he hopes he likes what he finds because soon enough, Shane is lifting Ryan off the couch, keeping Ryan’s legs wrapped around his waist. Superhuman strength indeed.

Ryan’s tossed onto the bed and Shane gives him one last heated look before tearing off to find the correct herbs. Ryan reaches for his backpack and pulls out a thick Sharpie from the front pocket, tossing it to Shane once he comes back into the room. He trades Ryan a bowl of crushed herbs that Ryan sprinkles around the room. Once they’re all gone, Ryan hurriedly tosses his clothes into a lump onto the floor and jumps on the bed, watching Shane draw artful sigils all over the cabin walls. Those aren’t coming off soon, but Ryan can’t bring himself to give a damn.

In a mixture of soon enough and far too late, Shane is on top of Ryan, smothering his neck with bites and open mouth kisses that make him squirm. The room is filled with the sounds of Ryan gasping at each of Shane’s touches, the god playing him like an instrument.

“Ryan,” Shane says and Ryan can barely lift his head to look down at Shane, eyes rolling back when he sees Shane smiling up at him from his crotch.

“Yeah? Do we… Is there something else we have to do?” Ryan manages to slur out, his words weighed down by the lust in the room. Shane chuckles and the sound paired with the vibration makes Ryan shiver again, hips bucking up involuntarily. A heavy hand presses him back onto the mattress, Shane pulling up so their eyes can properly meet.

“No, but I do have to do this in another form,” Shane murmurs and Ryan nods, holding his god’s cheeks and pulling into a kiss. As their lips crash against each other, Ryan’s fingers feel Shane’s skin change textures, going from its typical feeling to a much more indescribable feeling. The best he can say is he feels like he’s touching the void, where nothing and everything meet right in the middle.

“Oh fuck,” Ryan groans when he opens his eyes, taking stock of what he can see. The room seems to have disappeared into Shane’s form, and Ryan can’t be too sure but he can faintly make out a handful of eyes staring at him.

“Still want to do the ritual?” a voice asks. It’s more like layers upon layers of voices are talking to him, but Shane’s voice rings over all of them.

Ryan looks around the voice before choosing a pair of eyes to stare into. The human smirks and stretches himself into a pleasing line, stretching out and making suggestive moans before slowly, reverently, opening his legs for Shane.

“Come get me, big guy.”

* * *

Sunlight streams through the opened curtains in the bedroom, the light shining right onto Shane’s closed eyes. He groans, throwing one of his arms to try and save himself some more sleep but it’s too late. He’s slowly waking up from a pleasant dream and he makes a note to curse the sun for doing that. Shane rolls onto his side, pausing when Ryan makes a sleepy noise of protest from his position against Shane’s arm.

“G’morning to you too,” Shane greets in a sleepy growl, kissing Ryan’s temple. He’s tempted to see if his powers did return, but right now, with Ryan sound asleep against him, Shane can’t really bring himself to try and make the sun sink back into the horizon. Watching Ryan sleep, all the worry and doubt smoothed from his forehead, is slowly becoming one of Shane’s favorite past times. He wants to say the book had been preaching utter bullshit, but here he is, watching his human snore against his arm.

“Forest god!”

The peacefulness of the morning is shattered by the shout and Shane’s eyes narrow, feeling the presence of two outsiders outside the cabin. There’s another person with them, a much more familiar presence. Shane presses his lips together before gently stealing his arm back from Ryan, giving his human another kiss on the cheek.

“Promise not to kill them, s’long as they don’t try to take a shot at me,” he murmurs before leaving the warmth of the bed. Shane manages to throw on his clothes from yesterday, combing his hair with his fingers as he steps out of the door. His eyes immediately find one of his followers kneeling between the two outsiders, a gun aimed squarely behind her head. She’s the village doctor, one of the kindest people Shane has ever seen in the village.

“Hello, g’morning,” Shane greets them, his smile returning to his face. The forest rustles to return the greeting, the sound widening his grin. It feels good to be one with it again, to feel each and every creature and plant living inside of it.

“We know you’re getting weak, forest god. When you’re gone, we’ll finally be able to take this place, we’ll become our own gods!” one of them shouts and Shane is a little miffed about being shouted at in the morning. He should be in bed, holding Ryan and telling him to go back to sleep when he tries to wake up.

“Yeah, about that… I don’t really like the fact that you killed off almost half of my family and now you’re trying to threaten me,” Shane bites back, smile shifting into a more predatory territory. He keeps his eyes on the doctor, incredibly proud of how she stays still. Her faith in him is rolling off her shoulders, giving him a fresh power high Shane hasn’t tasted in a while.

Shane’s about to ask for their last words when the door to the cabin creaks open. Ryan steps out, dressed as well. He looks grim, eyes darting between Shane, the hunters, and the hostage. Shane is getting ready to tell Ryan to head back in, that this whole thing will be over shortly when Ryan decides to do the talking for him.

“Haven’t you guys done enough? You guys are human as well, you know. You’ve literally committed mass murder because of some power fantasy, and for what? He’s lost his family, his powers. You’ve taken everything from him,” Ryan protests, walking to Shane’s side. Shane bites his tongue from revealing that his powers are, most definitely, not gone. They’ve returned almost tenfold.

“Not everything,” the older human says and draws his gun, pointing it square at Ryan.

Shane doesn’t want to call himself a violent person, doesn’t want to call himself a monster, but seeing the gun aimed at Ryan breaks a restraint in him. With a god’s blood in his veins, the forest snaps and everything goes dead silent. A cloud envelops the sun and Shane melts into the shadows cast on the ground. The darkness eats up the distance between Shane and the pillagers, his dozens of eyes opening within the shadows.

“Oh fuck!” Shane hears in the mess, too busy chasing after one of them running off. He can feel the doctor run towards Ryan, and his love using his body to shield her. It only makes his heart warm as Shane does his job. He’s the guardian of the forest, god of the eldritch. Anything unwelcome to his forest will only find one way out, and with the blood of his family on these outsiders’ hands, Shane doesn’t imagine their escape being easy.

Reaching a clawed hand for the outsider he’s chasing, Shane snatches him up and tears him through the forest, unable to keep track of what limb is lost where. By the time he stops to check, the human is a mess of dislocated limb and torn flesh, eyes already dull of life. Shane tosses the pile of flesh into a bush, wiping the blood off on his flannel. He opens himself to find the other one, wondering if he should bring him to see what became of his companion.

He’s prepared to sink into the shadows again when a sharp pain stings through his lower back. Shane gasps and trips forward, falling through the shadows and shedding off all his extra limbs and eyes. When he comes to, he’s back in front of the cabin, staring at the pillager holding a bloody knife. Ryan’s eyes are wide and his skin looks starkly pale. Everyone is stunned in a dark silence before Ryan falls forward. It’s all Shane needs to break from his stupor, a bubbling rage consuming his mind. A visceral scream tears through his throat and he disappears, opening his godly maw underneath the pillager. His teeth pierce through the earth, appearing like toothy columns around the man. Shane slams his jaws together, the sickly wet pop of crushing the man satisfying to his ears.

He drags the carcass deep into the forest soil, leaving it in a cursed spot he doesn’t want to remember. Shane crawls back to the surface as quickly as he can, clawing for the surface to see Ryan, to check on him. It’s only been a day, he can’t… The terror of possibly losing Ryan grips Shane and he simply materializes in front of the house, ready to bust in when the doctor suddenly opens the door.

“My God,” she greets as respectfully as she can. “Some space, please. He is being bandaged up, and I would prefer silence over your hovering.” She nods once before closing the door again, leaving Shane in a stunned daze. He takes a step away from the door before his pacing begins.

If Ryan dies, does that mean Shane’s powers go with him? Who gives a damn about the powers, Ryan could potentially be dead, dying inside right now. Damn the powers, damn everything. Shane will happily give it all up if it means Ryan can live. If it’s safer for Ryan to be far far away from Shane, hundreds of miles away, so be it. Shane will wither in the forest, he’ll die a million times before he lets Ryan die.

After what feels like an eternity, the door to the cabin opens and Shane immediately rushes forward.

“Doctor, Ryan… How is he?” Shane asks as patiently as he can, trying to peer over her and into the cabin. The fireplace is going again, what did that mean.

“My God… I… I did what I could, I just don’t. There’s something you must see,” she answers, face completely pale. Shane fears for the worst in that moment, pushing past her and throwing the door open.

Sitting by the fireplace, bundled in a fur blanket, is Ryan. His silhouette is decorated by the glow of the fire and when Shane approaches, he can see the peaceful expression on his love’s face. Shane drops to his knees at Ryan’s side, reaching out to take his hand. The couch is absolutely littered with used medical materials, some of the bandaged made of torn clothing.

“Ryan?” Shane asks, hands trembling as he touches his hand, taking it in his own. It’s still so warm, and if Shane concentrates, he can feel Ryan’s heartbeat through the tips of his fingers. Ryan breaks his stare at the fire and looks at Shane, grinning at him before nodding to the bandages at his side. Shane slowly turns his gaze down and finds streaks of a liquid not unlike gold staining the fabrics.

“What? How?” Shane asks, picking up one of the stained bandages. He holds it up to the light of the fire and then looks at Ryan again, balling the fabric in his hand. “Ryan, are you…”

Ryan gives him another smile before shedding the blanket, turning to show the spot where the knife had gone in. There is a row of neat stitches and smears of the same metallic gold liquid on the skin. No part of Ryan looks in pain. In fact, he looks… at peace.

Shane senses the forest trembling without ever seeing it, feels it entirely shift and warp to accommodate something just as powerful as Shane entering it. It buckles, threatening to shatter and throw the two of them out and Shane waits with bated breath as Ryan slowly turns around to meet Shane’s questioning gaze.

“I can feel it. Everything in the forest.”

“What does that mean?” Shane asks, voice delicate. He’s scared of the answer.

Ryan reaches out and cups Shane’s cheek, the god unable to keep himself from leaning into the touch.

“You don’t have to spend eternity alone anymore, Shane. You’re not the only god of the forest anymore.”

The forest trembles to welcome its newest guardian into its world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you liked the fic, drop a quick kudos or, if you're feeling generous, drop a comment! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, visit the shyanlibrary on tumblr for more just like it. If you'd like to request anything, check me out at sarcasmrights on tumblr! If there's enough interest, I'll publish the missing spicy scene where Ryan finds out what banging an eldritch horror can feel like.
> 
> Thank you so much Nini for hosting the event, we appreciate your efforts and wish you good luck on all your future endeavors. Cheers to you!


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